


The new Baby

by Lamamu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby, F/M, Fluff, Happy, Retired Donna, Retired Hunter Dean, Retired Hunter Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 05:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamamu/pseuds/Lamamu
Summary: When his young son had a brush with death, Dean retired from hunting. Sam and Donna soon found a way to occupy their time but Dean was at his wits end. Bored, he sets out to create something special.





	The new Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WaywardDonna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardDonna/gifts).



A gift for @WaywardDonna

 

It all started when Bobby was five. Little kids were so curious, and Dean had been dancing around giving up hunting ever since his son was born. But it wasn’t until Bobby popped the trunk of Baby and almost got himself killed by the demon that he and Donna had stuffed in there for later interrogation that the penny dropped.

They needed to stop. Now. Or at least he did. Donna had been adamant though, they were a team. A family, and families stuck together. So, while Donna took the boy and bandaged his wounds, Dean finished off the demon, vowing on the body of the poor soul who was the usual collateral damage that he was done.

 _They_ were done.

And so they went home to the bunker. Sam was disappointed that he’d lost the rest of his team in one foul swoop but he understood, and in time he was happy.

Things became _normal_.

At first, Dean went a little stir crazy but Donna, Sam and little Bobby were always there to ground him, and to keep him in line if he crossed it. And boy did he cross it in those early days. He’d always remember the first time Donna put her foot down and told him to pull his head out of his ass, swearing at him like a fishwife and waving her arms in the air like one of those flappy inflatable arm waving things he saw outside used car yards.

Normal settled into their bones and they were content that Bobby was going to grow up without the constant danger of hunting following him around like the shadow of doom. Normal, until the calls started. Hunters all over the place needed help and there was nobody there to give them what they needed. It was kind of by default that Donna and Sam began the new network, taking on the role that their mentor, the original Bobby had started all those years ago.

The bunker became hunter headquarters. The repository of all knowledge, and the place hunters knew they could find out what they needed with one quick phone call. Sam was in some kind of nerdy element, and spent years perfecting their system. He made it so user friendly that ‘even Dean could use it’ and he was _happy_ because their lives were _normal._

Donna was happy. Bobby was happy. Dean should have been happy, but he knew there was something missing from his life.

When Bobby turned thirteen Dean disappeared. One day they all woke up and he was gone. Donna was beside herself, never leaving the radio until Sam forced her go to sleep, only to find her back in her seat not twenty minutes later, sleeping with her head cradled in the crook of her arm just in case Dean called in.

But he didn’t. Days had passed and not a word from him, anywhere. He’d vanished, and Sam started to call in celestial favours but all Cas told him was that Dean was safe and would be home soon.

_Soon_

And then, one afternoon Dean reappeared, whistling to himself as he clumped down the curved staircase without a care in the world, a rare spring in his step. He’d greeted Donna with an exuberance nobody had seen in him for years and cheerfully dodged their questions, simply telling them he’d found something to keep him busy. Something that everyone would love, if they’d just step into the garage so he could show them.

His new project.

Sitting there next to the perfect black lines and shining metal of Baby was her less fortunate twin sister. Another ‘67 Impala, rusted and neglected almost beyond recognition, tyres missing, broken windows and great, ugly slashes in the seats. Her once shining paintwork was peeling and her panels dented but Dean stood over her, leaning on the roof and staring down at her poor unfortunate frame like a proud father. Like he was seeing both what she was _now_ , what she _had_ been, and what she was going to _be_ under his careful ministrations and clever hands.

Sam had laughed, shaken his head and clapped his brother on the back, telling him that if he ever managed to get it finished he’d shout him a bottle of the finest whiskey. Donna had stood there with the wind knocked out of her sails, speechless when she saw that it was something that he _needed_. Retiring from hunting hadn’t been enough. The network they’d set up kept her and Sam busy but she’d known research wasn’t Dean’s thing all along.

This. This was definitely Dean’s thing and later that night when he’d scooped her up and taken her to bed he’d proven it over and over in the look in his eyes, the smile on his face and the way everything about him just seemed so recharged and full of life again.

It was about then that Dean’s relationship with his son took on a different note. At first the boy just stood and watched his father for a few moments at a time before returning to his books or whatever game he was playing. Then, on a day when Dean absently asked his son to pass him a shifting spanner, Bobby had selected the correct tool without hesitation and handed it to him.

Everything changed.

Dean had eyed his son speculatively, between them, he and Donna had agreed to never force him into something he didn’t want to do, but to give him enough information to make his own choices.

So it was normal for him to man the phones and help the hunters. It was normal for him to learn how to shoot a gun and take apart a weapon. Donna had seen to that. Sam had taught him how to use the network he’d set up and that beer with lemon wedges in it was perfect on a summer’s day. Charlie, returned to them a few years after Bobby had been born made sure he was kept up to date with the latest gamer information and had even taken him to Comic-Con one year when she’d needed a child to be the Gimli to her Legolas. Castiel had taught him about angels and how to make the perfect sandwich. Jody made him do chores and taught him how to cook. It was all _normal_.

What Dean wanted, what he’d been hoping for in the silences of his mind was that Bobby would find it normal to be down in the garage helping his father restore an old car. A car that Dean planned on having ready for when the boy turned 18.

And so, when Bobby had next appeared in the garage to silently watch his father with his head tilted to one side, Dean had started narrating what he was doing. It wasn’t long before Bobby was staying longer, hesitantly asking questions of his father and passing him tools while they talked. Learning what they were for and how those fools at the manufacturers should make them smaller so that Bobby’s hands could fit around them properly. Bobby didn’t care, he learned how to use them anyway, knowing his hands would grow into them in time.

One day Donna noticed that Bobby hadn’t come to nag her for food like his usual clockwork self and went looking for him, finding him on the slidey weird skateboard thing that went under the car, his sleeves rolled up and grease smeared on the legs of his jeans. He was whistling one of Dean’s favourite songs and the sound, echoing through the garage warmed her heart. She stood, leaning in the doorway with all the love in her heart blossoming anew for the men in her life. Dean had crept up behind her, all proud and they’d stood there, his arms around her while their son worked on the car he didn’t know was his.

Time passed, as time does and Baby’s sister started to take shape. In between gaming, guns, cookies and school Dean and Bobby worked tirelessly. Gone was the rust. The seats had been repaired, and the windows were ready to go in. The panels were straight, smooth lines of steel waiting to be painted back to their original shade of deep blue. Sam had surprised everyone when he’d won the argument over the sound system, showing Dean that the new system could be hidden inside the old one so that it didn’t ruin the aesthetics of such a classic car.

Bobby’s 18th birthday drew closer, and so did the boy’s graduation from high school. Dean grew increasingly agitated, fretting that after all this time something would go wrong but praying at the same time that it wouldn’t. Donna told him he was wasting his time on worry and he’d smiled and worried quietly anyway. In the end she let him, having faith in him to see the job done. And it was. Just like she _knew_ it would be.

Then finally, as the sun crested the treetops on the dawn of Bobby’s birthday Donna woke to the rumbling sound of Baby starting up. Dean had stayed late in the garage the night before, brushing off her concern about his lack of sleep with a tired smile and the promise that he’d be there soon. The cold, undisturbed other half of the bed betrayed him, and getting up, Donna sighed. They had a big day ahead and a grumpy, tired Dean was the last thing she wanted to deal with. She threw on a robe and shuffled towards the sound, a frown creasing her pale forehead when she realised that it was coming from outside. The engine revved several times and Bobby appeared, with a tousle headed Sam not far behind.

As one, the three of them rolled their eyes and went to the door of the garage, wondering what on earth Dean was up to at this hour of the day. They followed the sound outside, into the yard and there, sitting in the morning sunlight was Baby and her twin, with Dean leaning casually on the sleek black metal of his original car. That wasn’t what drew their eyes though. That wasn’t what made collective jaws drop and little excited sounds erupt into the air all at once.

The thing that drew their eyes, and indeed their ears was the rumbling sound of another engine, humming in perfect harmony with Baby. Another perfectly restored Impala, shining deep blue like the depths of the ocean with a ridiculously large red bowtie perched on her rooftop.

With a wide grin on his face Dean stepped forward and turned off the engine, slipping the keys into the palm of one hand. He turned to face Bobby, who was standing there with his mouth open, a look of utter disbelief on his face, the green eyes he’d inherited from Dean shining with unshed emotion.

Dean held out the hand holding the keys and stepped forward again, towards Bobby this time.

 

“Happy birthday son.”  



End file.
